


One for the Money

by littlemisslol



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Con-Man Au, Literally everyone is a thieving asshole and it's fun, M/M, Murdddddddddddddderssss, Thievery, everyone's lying to everyone, human!AU, not quite graphic as you might be thinking but there are dead people at one point, slow burn (technically)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisslol/pseuds/littlemisslol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jack Frost is the king of the Black Widow Con, and has recently found his next mark in a tall, handsome Australian. But this new rube has his own agenda, one that even Jack couldn't have seen coming. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE: IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S ME.**

There was a dead man on the floor. There was a dead man on the floor who was at least fifty years old, maybe older you never know, and his blood was draining out of the bullet hole in his head and onto the Malaysian redwood flooring. Jack looked down at the body on the floor of his living room sadly, biting at his nails on one hand. The quartz chandelier above him glittered impassively and the gun in his hand held a warped reflection of it in it's dark metal.

There was a dead man on the floor, and Jack had put him there.

"So. Listen." Jack says softly, his voice echoing off the marble floors and high ceilings of the mansion he'd called home for the past three years. "Not that this hasn't been fun but... I'm breaking up with you."

His blue eyes spark at the joke, even as he quickly bends over and removes the two year old wedding band from the man's hand. A small smile works it's way over his face as he stands, before he quickly walks away from the crime. His shoes make a sharp taping that echo through the empty mansion, following him up the spiral staircase in the front hall, down the lavish hallways, and into the bedroom he had shared with his victim and husband.

He bends and reaches under the bed, a large four poster from some European country or another, before pulling out a duffle bag. Jack quickly works his way back downstairs, back to the body of his husband.

"Still where I left you, good." He laughs, digging into the duffle and pulling out a pair of large doctor's tweezers. Clicking them ominously, he descends, quickly lifting the head of his victim, already starting to grey without it's blood pumping. With precision one can only have with practice, Jack works the tweezers into the wound, deeper into the head. He twists them around a bit, making a grossed out face at the squelching sound of brain and blood and little fragments of skull, but eventually cackles in glee when he pulls out his prize.

The warped remains of a bullet, his bullet, stained red with little chunks of skull and offal still attached sits pretty in the tweezers. Jack can't be happier as he inspects it, overjoyed that it's still in one piece and he won't have to go digging around and look for any offending little pieces that may still be stuck in there.

"So, uh. It's not you," He says softly, standing once again and hoisting the duffle over a thin shoulder. "It's me."

Laughing at his own joke, Jack makes his way past the body and into the most expensive room of the house, the kitchen. Marble from Venice, wall sconces from France, the latest appliances from Tokyo, it was all quite nice, but Jack didn't have time to marvel. He was a man on a mission, after all.

Humming to himself, he makes his way to one of the hand painted by the _great artist blah who lived in blah, blah, blah_ art pieces, and promptly rips it from the wall, letting it clatter to the ground without a second thought. His eyes were only focused on the safe beyond.

The safe itself was imbedded in the wall and had taken Jack somewhere around six months to find. It was Swiss, of course it was, one of the best in the world.

It takes Jack around three minutes to crack it.

Rubbing his hands together, Jack giggles in the excited way of a child opening their Christmas presents. He swings the iron door open, barely able to contain himself, only to have the smile drop from his face in a heartbeat.

" _Empty_?!" He shrieks, punching the wall next to it. "What the _fuck_ you old creep, where the hell is it?!"

Three fucking years he'd spent on this scam, three fucking years. Seducing the bastard and even going so far as to fucking marry the guy, being carted around as a fucking trophy wife and all he got for it was an empty goddamn safe? What the fuck indeed!

Growling in rage, he hoists his duffle higher on his shoulder. He quickly gets some paper towels from the overly expensive dispenser and wipes the safe down. Jack then takes a walk through the house, ripping every single picture of himself and the mark (or just himself, in some cases) from the walls, stopping to give the creep a good kick in the side for good measure, and then storming over to the marble fireplace, before nonchalantly throwing three years worth of memories and a used bullet into the fire.

The light from the fire warms his skin, but irritates the brown contacts in his eyes. It was time for a new look, he thinks, then a new mark, one who would actually pay up this time, and repeat.

The Black Widow Scam was tired and old, Jack knew, but goddamn if he wasn't good at it. This was somewhere around his fourth husband (he stopped counting after a while) in six years, and each and every one of them had left him loaded, except for this latest fucker.

He runs through a mental checklist, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Pictures burned, bullet retrieved, fingerprints gone, check, check, check.

It was time to disappear, he thinks sadly.

It was time to move on.

***

The hotel Jack sets himself up in is nice enough, not gross or inhospitable, but not exactly five stars. However, Jack was never a stickler for details, as long as it had a clean bed and running water. He may be a world renowned thief, and therefore used to the finer things in life, but goddamn if he can't just man up and deal with it.

Jack stands in the not-quite-crappy-but-almost bathroom of the hotel, staring at the reflection in the mirror. Brown hair, brown eyes, a simple combination, but apparently that's what his mark had likes. Or, well, liked.

Heh.

His reflection smiles a bit, a small quirk of pale, thin lips. Jack tears his eyes away slightly, looking down at the choice he was currently trying to make.

"Hrm, blonde hair with blue eyes, black hair and green eyes, or brown eyes with... oh I could do red hair. Be ginge, that could be fun."

Decisions, decisions. With a sigh Jack mulls over what his next disguise was going to be. According to the news, the police were looking for a man, about 20 years of age, with brown hair and brown eyes in the murder of an esteemed gentleman who had been murdered and robbed blind. Long story short, Jack had to change up his look if he wanted to avoid getting locked up for life.

With a sigh, Jack looked through his duffel, which had been hiding under the sink, and with no small amount of shock lifted another bottle of hair dye out of the dark recesses of the bag. He looked over the label, stopping with a smug little smirk.

"Oh, I haven't done _this_ before~."


	2. Wining, Dining, and a Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet an overly handsome Australian, and everything falls conveniently into place.

**CHAPTER ONE: WINING, DINING, AND A SILVER LINING**

The Catalina Wine Mixer was fucking _boring_. Hour three of this snooze fest and so far nothing good had happened. Jack Frost sighed to himself, adjusting his shockingly white hair slightly. He's this close to just giving up and going home, he really is, because he'd spent four goddamn hours primping and preening and making sure his tastefully tailored suit was _just so_ , and no one was even drunk yet.

It was enough to make a boy sick, and Jack had half a mind to just get wasted, puke in the begonias, and be done with it.

But maybe not.

It'd been three months since the last scam he'd pulled and it's grisly end, and Jack was antsy to start up another. It's time to get back in the game, he told himself that morning, time to get back up and start conning rubes because goddamn he's almost broke (by his standards, meaning he was down to the last hundred thousand).

The Wine Mixer, as boring as it happened to be, was nice enough, Jack supposed, sitting pretty atop a seaside cliff with multiple gazebo type buildings for shelter from the sun and to protect food. Some froofy band was playing in the background, and the mulling of conversation was everywhere. It was the type of place a person like Jack thrived.

That is, if he had a mark. A target would usually be a good place to start, but as of now Jack had yet to see anyone that met his standards of:

1: Stupid as all hell

2: Single

And 3, the most important of all: At least somewhat attractive.

Call him picky, call him shallow, but if Jack was potentially marrying them, then fuck they had to at least be easy on the eyes.

But so far no luck. No one had met all three requirements as of yet, and Jack would have been long gone save for one detail.

Tooth.

A fellow con artist, Toothiana played a different game than Jack, that being that she spent most of her time working from behind a screen and directing her massive ring of spies, aka her "Baby Teeth" as Jack had taken to calling them. While Jack went for comparatively smaller cons with smaller takes, Tooth was raking in millions upon millions of dollars with just one con. However, her way of doing things were much more high risk for everyone involved, and thus on occasion called in for reinforcements.

Aka Jack.

"So why exactly am I here?" Jack asks expectantly, seeming to talk to no one on particular. If anyone saw they'd think him crazy, but Jack, when he wanted to, was very good at blending in.

"Because I need someone to keep an eye on the party while a Baby Tooth goes in." Tooth responds through the tiny speaker that was tucked away in Jack's ear. "Just for a bit longer Jack, she's almost got the casing on the diamond open."

Currently, Tooth was in the middle of stealing a rather large diamond that was sitting, unguarded, in the massive mansion that worked as the home of the esteemed Manfred Lunanoff. Manfred himself, the one holding the fundraiser, hadn't left Jack's sight since he'd gotten to the party. Jack knows that currently one of Tooth's little spies is breaking into the bulletproof casing surrounding the diamond, and he also knows that within the six minutes it takes for them to notice the diamond's gone, Jack has to get the hell out.

No need to get anywhere close to the cops, even if his last scam/murder had gone off without a hitch.

"You said just a bit longer ten minutes ago." Jack grumbles into his champagne, held with practiced grace between long, almost feminine fingers.

"Oh hush." Tooth chides. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"You're the one sitting in your nice cozy van with your computers and... I'm gunna bet two bucks you've got one of your goddamn sugarless energy drinks in there too."

Jack gives a satisfied smirk when he hears the thunk of an empty can being tossed into a garbage on the other end of the line. Called it.

"You shut up!" Tooth hisses as Jack snorts unattractively into his drink. "You can stop complaining now, Baby's got the thing finally. You're free to go. Dick."

Jack mentally cheers, ready to ditch this popsicle stand ASAP, when he hears a gruff voice from behind and gets a light tap on the shoulder.

"You sure you're old enough for that drink?" Says the voice in, what Jack admits, is a delicious Australian accent. Jack turns around in surprise, and-

Oh _shit_ he's hot.

Rugged look, naturally tanned skin broken up by gorgeous tattoos, black hair only just starting to grey. And those eyes sweet fuck. Green as an emerald Jack'd stolen when he was young. Jack's aware that he's staring, and he doesn't even fucking care because if there was one single person that could pull of a suit it was this guy because damn if you couldn't see the well muscled arms, legs, and chest under that well crafted suit.

Criteria three, check.

Jack allows his eyes to wander just a bit more, his mind quickly taking over his hormones. 6'1, or thereabouts, one of the more recent Rolex models on his wrist, size 8 shoes, recently shined. Just the hint of a silv-platinum chain around his neck. Could hold his wedding ring, single then? He was flirting, and with Jack no less.

Criteria one and two, check and check.

Mark, met.

Jack schools his face into the flirty grin that's been practiced in the mirror a million times. "I'm old enough," He says lightly, taking a sip of champagne as if to prove it. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

The man smiles and oh sweet Jesus that's _so goddamn attractive Jesus fuck_ , before laughing slightly. He moves closer to Jack, who can practically feel the heat coming from him. It's like the guy is a walking furnace or something.

"M'name's Ethan-Abbot Bachman." He says casually, and Jack can see the _almost_ nonchalant way he tosses an arm around Jack's shoulders. "But everyone calls me Aster. Dunno why." Jack feels himself getting reeled closer to this... Aster via the arm around his shoulders, and allows it. It's so easy when they're the ones to approach him.

"I'm Jack," He says, playing up the shyness in his voice because this guy seems the type to like the shy little virgin types. Jack's played that before, fucking hates it, but if it'll move things along quick then why not? "Jack Overland."

Aster smiles at that, casually taking a swing at his own drink. Oh yeah, this guy's a tough guy. "Well then Jack Overland, you look as bored as I feel. How'da say we go and get some food that hasn't cost a small fortune?"

A man after Jack's own heart. The smile that split's Jack's face is a genuine one, and he hastily agrees. Jack can hear a commotion coming from the main building a fourth a kilometer away, so yeah, leaving's a good idea. Aster tightens the arm around his shoulders as they walk away from the party, making small talk as they get to Aster's car (Jack had forced Tooth to drive him, so it's a good thing too) and they drive around until they find a McDonalds or something. They then sit in the car, still talking in between stuffing their faces with things that are so fucking bad for them but they don't care.

Aster's from Australia. He's 29, almost 30, and is the youngest son of a wealthy businessman from down under. He's in America for a trip, but may plan on staying if he finds anything worth staying for.

Jack makes up most of his background on the spot, but that's something that's come second nature nowadays so it doesn't bother him.

He tells Aster he's 23, he was the son of a major business woman, but that both of his parents are dead and that an older sibling had taken over the company, but now he's been pretty much left with his half of the family profits, which are only ever going up.

It's all bullshit, but it's _believable_ bullshit.

And in the long run that's all that matters. Jack can build on it later.

Eventually they finish clogging their arteries, and Aster drives him home. Or, to be more specific, Aster drives him to the house he'd bought like a week ago with most of his earnings from the last con. The Australian does give him his number, however, and Jack gives his in return.

Somewhere along the line they make plans for next Saturday.

Jack waves as Aster drives away, and manages to wait until he closes the door behind him before bursting out laughing. Back pushed against the rosewood door, Jack just lets loose, letting his laughter echo through the house.

"Too fucking easy!" He giggles to himself.

***

Aster drops the mark off at his house, an overly stylized sorta place, before trading numbers with the doe eyed bugger and driving off after making plans to get together next Saturday. The kid was cute, he had to admit. White hair, blue eyes, skinny as a rail, definitely E. Aster Bunnymund's type. If the kid was a little less naive and bubbly, he might even go for him legitimately.

But that wasn't how the scam works, now was it?

Aster chuckles to himself, pulling up to his own homestead. He'd needed a new rube, he did. He was down to his last million, so it was about time to start hunting for a new guy to con.

Seduce, marry, rob, kill, repeat. A good system, if not tired and true. Aster'd pulled it somewhere around six times in the last ten years, what was one more?

Bunnymund can't help but laugh to himself as he enters his house. "Too fuckin' easy." He laughs, tossing his keys into a waiting dish and heading farther into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN. DUN. DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN. OH THE IRONIC SHENANIGANS THAT CAN HAPPEN HERE.


	3. Hobbies, Bodies, and Tackyass Audis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates are always awkward, but whatever.

**CHAPTER TWO: HOBBIES, BODIES, AND TACKYASS AUDIS**

Jack eventually decides to head to Tooth's place, out of sheer boredom. It's been three days since he's seen Aster, three days since his game began. The day is Saturday, and Jack should be getting ready for his date but... nah. Later. Sometime that is not now.

Tooth's house is a small but nice apartment, high up in the skyline of the vast city of Chicago. It's a longer drive from Jack's neck of the woods, but it's worth it. There aren't many people who Jack trusts, and even fewer that he actually liked. A little distance wasn't going to keep him from the closest thing he had to family.

Tooth mocks him for restarting the con, but she always has.

"Well at least this one's cute." She says mockingly as she pours coffee for them both. "Oh yeah, I saw him." She cuts Jack's immediate question off. Her dress is a whirlwind of colours, greens and blues and yellows and purples all thrown together in a mishmash that somehow turned out looking good. She flops down onto the couch next to Jack, casually tossing her bare feet onto his lap. He simply smirks, used to the friendly gesture.

"It's too easy Tooth," Jack says happily. "I'll have this guy six feet under in a year tops." He leans closer to her unimpressed face before smiling the grin he knows she can't resist. "Besides, he's got such nice abs, it's crazy."

She laughs and pushes his face away, rolling her eyes. Her face drops, however, and she looks at him seriously. Jack perks at this, usually Tooth was peppy as anyone could be. To see her face as serious as it was something had to be up.

"What?" He asks, confused. She sighs, looking down to her hands.

"I don't like how you just rush into things like this." She says solemnly. "You should do some research before you go barrelling into a con, hun. One day you're going to get into trouble, I can feel it. And then where will you be? Dead in a ditch, or worse Jack! You need to be more careful."

Jack sighs in frustration, this was at least the sixth time they've had this conversation in the past two months. It always ended the same, with neither party happy and one crawling back and apologizing.

"When have I not been fine, Tooth?" He asks softly, looking her dead in her violet eyes. "I've always been fine. It's a law of nature, the sun rises, grass grows, animals fuck, and I make it out of cons alive. It's the way the world works."

She doesn't even crack a smile.

"If I let you look into this guy, will you get offa my back?" Jack finally relents. Tooth's face cracks into a grin, and she nods enthusiastically. Jack and Tooth had long since promised to keep their noses out of each other's businesses, unless asked or they had a legitimate fear for the other's safety. This rule had been started directly after what was known as the "2008 Milan tour fiasco."

Long story short, shit had gone down and they had both almost gotten arrested due to poor communication. Both their attempted cons had gone ass up, and they'd lost a collective $30 million.

A shitty day for both parties.

They never spoke of it again.

Tooth turns the conversation to happier topics, including her new diamond.

"I'm thinking of keeping it," She says, pulling it from a pocket in her dress. It's a large thing, cut to perfection and roughly the size of an orange. Long story short, it was big, it was shiny, and most importantly, it was expensive.

"Well," He shrugs, "You could save it for a rainy day. Or an escape route if one of your babies fuck up."

Tooth slaps him upside the head. Ow.

"My babies are the best there are." She says, turning a nose to the air. "Any implications otherwise will get your girl time revoked."

Jack snorts. He's allowed to be unattractive with Tooth. "Oh, whatever shall I do?" He moans dramatically, flopping over the back of the couch and hanging upside down. While listening to Tooth nearly choke on her drink, he checks his watch. Aster's going to be at his house in an hour. He should... probably get on that.

Yeah, there's a plan.

So it is with much regret that he sits back up and tells Tooth that the time for leaving was at hand. She looks a little disappointed, but nods all the same. Jack is courteous enough to help her clean up the assorted dishes and garbage that always seems to accumulate whenever they have their so called "girl talks" before leaving.

Once home, Jack can't help but feel a little... bored, at the prospect of starting over again. In all honesty he only truly loves a con the moment he pulls it off. The moment the rube is dead on the ground or six feet under, and Jack's sitting pretty on a plane to the next city.

The feeling of success was a drug and he knew it, but it's not like he was ever going to stop.

His last con had been in San Francisco. He's now in Chicago. Jack, in his twenty one years of life, has hopped to more cities than he cared to count. New York, London, and on one particularly memorable occasion he'd found himself running around Bangkok drunk off his ass and missing his jacket.

But we never talk about that.

Ever.

But as Jack looks around him, staring at the marble and the art and the utter glory of his home, he can't help but think. Why would he ever give something like this up? For a normal life no less?

One day you're going to get into trouble, I can feel it.

Feh, what did Tooth know? She sat behind a computer all day and let others do the hard work. Jack loves her dearly, she's the closest he's got to family, but she doesn't know shit about grifting.

Jack'll be fine, he can feel it. Tooth was just a worrywart.

Right?

***

Aster sighs in irritation, shoveling another load of dirt out of the hole he was currently digging. He'd been digging for an hour, slowly but surely carving a two foot lengthwise, two foot wide, and ten feet deep hole into the forest floor.

The things he did for friends.

"Ah, Bunnymund, is almost done yes?" Aster rolls his eyes at the Russian accent before casting them skywards, only just seeing the extended belly of the asshole he called friend.

"Yeah, North. S'almost done, though why I'm the one digging I'll never know."

"Is because I would not fit in hole. Much too large." The Russian, North, reaches a massive hand into the hole and grabs onto the back of Aster's shirt. The Australian yelps at the contact but allows himself to be hefted out of the hole nonetheless.

North's a big man, round in both gut and face. A great white beard covers his face and neck, reaching almost to his belly button. The Russian wears a red fur coat, despite it being the middle of summer, with black pants and great big black boots (which look very good for squishing heads, but Aster's about 70% sure North hasn't gone there. Yet).

"So, what exactly did this bloke do?" Aster almost regrets asking, but does it nonetheless. Turning slightly, he can just see the shoeless feet of a dead body wrapped in an ugly floral print bed sheet with a large stain of red right where the head should be. North only laughs at the question, turning to look at the mass as well.

"He tried to steal from me, old friend." North laughs. "I was unappreciative of this. So I am shooting him. Is no big deal."

Aster only nods, running a hand through his hair to dispel the sweat that was no doubt in it. Aster's not an unfit guy, far from it, but digging holes is a long, tedious process.

North goes to pick up the body, and Aster grabs the guy's head while North gets his feet. They're a full hour from the nearest walking trail, let alone the city itself. They're fine to be doing this during the day, or at least they should be.

A gangster of North's calibre should damn well know these things, so Aster's content to put his trust in the Russian.

Together they toss the slightly smelling body into the hole, head first. It makes a gross crunching as it hits the bottom, probably the spine breaking or something, and Aster can't help but make a grossed-out expression at the sound of it. North laughs at him, and calls him a pansy.

Dick.

Aster sits back and lets North take over, rubbing at his forehead with his discarded jacket that had been nice when this had all started when North had called him three hours ago in need of a little favour.

North chats amicably as he shovels dirt on top of the body, burying it slowly but surely. The body only takes up around six feet of the hole, but apparently North has a trick that requires four extra feet.

Once the body is buried, plus one more foot of dirt, North quickly walks back to a nearby truck. Aster watches in passive interest, content to just sit on the ground and let North go about his business. The Russian sorts through the truck bed, grumbling to himself before pulling out a potato sack, though Aster has the odd suspicion that potatoes aren't what's in there.

North walks back to the hole, before turning the bag upside down and allowing the contents to fall out and into the hole with a muffled thump. Aster stands and walks across the small clearing, before peering into the hole.

And almost barfing.

A half decomposed dog lies there, still in one piece but barely. North pats his back rather harshly, and begins to explain.

"Police are always looking for leftovers of holes that are six feet by one, for impromptu graves, da? So we stand body right side up to avoided such obvious markers. We then put dead animal on top of body to confuse sniffer dogs. If dogs are finding, police dig up dead animal and are registering it as false positive and moving on zer way. Is something I have learned from long ago, in Russia."

After getting over the initial gross out factor, Aster can appreciate the little nuances and genius behind the plan. Didn't make it any less fucking gross though. Smart, but nasty. So, nodding along, Aster signs his approval via thumbs up, before trying to get the dead dog underground ASAP, because fuck that thing smells something awful.

He spares a second to check his watch, before letting out a curse.

"Aw, crikey, I'm gunna be late!" He exclaims, tossing his jacket on and starting towards his own car.

"Ah, for date with new rube, da?" North asks, leaning on a shovel lightly. "One with white hair?"

"That's the one. You're gunna have ta finish up without me, sorry mate."

"Is no problem, have fun with new squeeze, you shlyukha!"

Aster's pretty sure the Russian is insulting him, but he can't stop now if he wants to get back to the city, get cleaned up, and still go and pick up the doe eyed bastard he's planning on conning.

So it's off to the city he goes. Aster jumps into his car and slams the door shut a little too fast in his haste, but doesn't have the time to care. North'd be able to clear everything up on his own, hopefully.

Sometimes Aster looks at his life, considers the fact that his only real friend is a murdering gangster, but then he considers the fact that he doesn't give a flying fuck, and then he moves on with his life. North's a good friend, Aster knows. A good friend, who will lie, murder, steal, and cheat for you, though god help you if you got on his bad side. The man was cuddly as a plush bear if he liked you, but he also had a violent streak a mile long in both directions.

Aster can't help but smile to himself as he drives himself down the narrow dirt path that was supposed to be fore ATV's, looking at the rather harsh change in directives.

Hiding a body and going on a date, all within the same two hours that was a mood whiplash if there ever was one. But still, it was time for work. Time to go charm the pants (maybe literally, maybe metaphorically, depending on what goes down) off this kid.

Maybe he could get North to help him bury he white haired twerp once Aster's done with him? He could probably guilt North into helping...

Yeah, there's a plan. With a grin, he continues on driving, game face on and charm pumped to an eleven. This was going to be fun.

***

Jack's just barely finished dressing when the doorbell rings, echoing through the empty but spacious front hall of his home. He inspects his face in mirror for another second, making sure everything was in order and ready to go, before shooting himself his own trademark grin.

"Showtime." He whispers, turning away to head downstairs.

At that exact moment, Aster stands in front of the white door, tapping his foot impatiently. The white haired bugger had better not be late, because if Aster can get from 'hiding a body' to 'date ready' in under half an hour then there shouldn't be a problem on the kid's end.

He takes the delay to check his teeth in the reflection on his phone's screen, making sure he hadn't forgotten any dirt or the like in his haste. Everything looks pretty good, at least as far as he thinks.

Jack's sudden appearance at the door causes him to shove the phone back into his pocket, and he attempts to play it off (and untimely fails but shhh) by running a hand through his hair and making small talk. Jack just locks him with an amused smirk before laughing and pushing past him and heading towards Aster's green Audi.

They make mindless chatter as Aster drives, laughing and chattering away as the city begins to thin out into a smaller suburban area. Jack looks out the window with a barely contained interest, nearly bouncing up and down in his seat. The moment Aster stops the car Jack's bolting out the door and running into the park beyond.

Aster only laughs and follows behind, watching the little bugger run about the grassy field like an idiot. Jack has a smile a mile wide, and goddamn if that's not a good look for him, but business, Aster, business.

Eventually Jack settles the hell down, and they walk through the park along a path through the assorted trees and flowers. They joke and laugh and all that jazz, and fuck it's boring as all hell, but Aster tosses a winning grin on and bears it nonetheless. At some point they find a patch of grass and sit, watching the clouds float along the blue sky in a comfortable silence.

Jack's bored to tears, not that his face shows it. He leaves a contented smile on his face as his mind wanders. He had to pick up milk sometime within the next week, and he's pretty sure he's running out of toothpaste... oh shit wait Aster's talking focus Jack.

"-and I really think we should get together sometime again." Aster says in a matter of fact manner, not breaking eye contact with the sky. Jack simply nods and smiles, flashing snow white teeth towards Aster.

Aster smirks back at him, content to call this first date a success. Stage one of the con: passed with flying colours.

They exchange a few more words, unknowing of the actual feelings behind them.

"I love spending time with ya, Jackie." _And it'll almost be a shame to cut that off, but then again I really don't care that much._

"Same here Aster, you're so much fun to be around." _You insufferable jackass._

"Heh, good to know." _Not much of a complement from a kid who'd probably go out with a lamp if it had abs and a good smile._

"But yes, we should definitely do this again." _Despite you having more abs than brain cells._

"Hell yes we should." _Fuck, do we have to?_

They lapse back into silence, watching the sun go from bright blue to orange as the sun sets. At some point Aster gathers Jack's hand into his own, nearly dwarfing it.

Neither of them know it, but this was the most peaceful moment they were going to have in a long time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we got to see a little Tooth and a little North, and don't worry because this is not even close to the last we'll see of them! Oh, and for those wondering, shlyukha is an anglicized version of the Russian word for "whore" (North you asshole)


	4. KISSES, DISSES, AND “OH FUCK I MISSED”S

**CHAPTER THREE- KISSES, DISSES, AND "OH FUCK I MISSED"S**

This shit goes on for eight months. Jack and Aster dance around each other, until they finally bring their "whirlwind romance" to a head.

Aster proposes on a sunny Saturday, at the park they had their first date. It's sweet, it's sentimental, and by god, Jack was ready to go gag behind a tree over how goddamn sugar-coated it was.

But that was beside the point.

They begin planning a wedding, both with the seasoned experience of someone who's done this more than once. They do all the usual bullshit, they bicker over colour schemes and locations and Jack always gets his way. Jack insists that he gets to invite his  _childhood friend_  Toothiana, while Aster agrees as long as his  _best friend_  Nickolas is allowed to make an appearance.

Somewhere along the line they end up actually fucking. The sex is pretty good, Jack will admit. Aster would say the same when asked, but only with North and only if Jack's on the other side of the city.

Month nine is when Jack officially moves in.

They get married during month ten, on a mildly cloudy day in late August. They rent out a ridiculously over the top ballroom, coating it in blues and whites (Jack's choice), and with a vegetarian meal plan (Aster's input). It's all very fancy and wonderful, and Aster's ready to go and puke in the begonias by the end of it, but he presses on.

Month eleven is when things go horribly, wonderfully wrong.

Their house is over the top, nice and white with a picket fence and an impeccably maintained garden in the front. It's large bay windows look out onto the suburban street they've found themselves on.

Jack can't fucking stand it.

To him the house is garish and overly empty, lacking in any real homey feelings. It makes Jack uncomfortable, and he constantly feels like he's running around an Ikea ad every time he walks around his own house. It unnerves him, more than he'd like to admit. He muscles through it, however, because he knows that the time for endgame strategy has come.

And Jack knows his husband will be underground within the week if all his plans align, and thus is currently wandering the house and preparing for the inevitable escape.

It was all a simple matter of timing.

But it's as he's contemplating the delightful thoughts of murdering his spouse that a harsh banging on the door echoes through the empty house. Jacks' head snaps up from where he'd been dutifully scrubbing away at the doorknob on the bathroom door, not having expected a visitor.

Bunny's gone off to work or whatever, Jack really didn't give enough of a fuck to listen, so it couldn't be him, and Jack didn't exactly have a lot of friends... save for one.

Oh.

"Coming Tooth!" Jack shouts, already scurrying down the stairs as the knocking grows more and more frantic.

"Jeeze, hold your horses."

He nearly knocks over the novelty umbrella stand as he opens the door, only just catching it with his foot as Tooth barrels into him with such a speed it nearly sends both of them crashing onto the marble flooring. Jack lies on the floor after impact, stunned into a pile of gangly limbs and hurting head. Tooth, however, is up like a shot and slamming the door behind her in a frenzy.

Tooth looks panicked, twitching to and fro as she scans the surrounding house with fever. Her wild hair has become even more unmanageable, and she truthfully looks like she hasn't slept in a few days.

"Is Aster here?" She hisses, glaring into the house with fearful eyes.

Jack's own eyes narrow in confusion as he picks himself up from the ground. "No?" He lets it trial off in a questioning manner, Tooth visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping with a sigh.

"Oh thank god," She murmurs, "We've got a problem."

Jack can only look at her, his expression going from confused to full of perplexed as she scurries into the house like she owns the damn place. Jack follows after her in a flurry of limbs, demanding to know what the problem is.

"It's your mark." She says bluntly, slamming her fist into the wall. "I  _knew_ there was something wrong with him, I  _knew it_!"

"What do you mean, something wrong?" Jack hisses, grabbing at her hand before she can bring it down again, "Is he broke? Tooth, does he  _know_?"

"No. It's worse."

Jack's puzzled face saves him from having to ask the question. Tooth turns to look at him with eyes full of fear.

"He's one of us." She whispers, covering her mouth with her hand. "Jack, he's one of  _us_!"

***

Aster can't help but feel content at this exact moment in time, because he's sitting in North's house with his feet up, and he has beer.

It's a simple comfort, but by god it's enough to make him happy.

He'd told Jack he's been off to work, when in actuality he'd been mostly hanging around and mooching off of North's TV and snacks. Had to go somewhere, he supposed, and North's couch was so dang  _comfortable_  it was a crime for it to  _not_ be in use while the fat Russian was out of town on grisly business.

Aster's getting geared up to complete the con, but he's trying to find a way to kill the weedy bastard. Jack would be easy to kill, he was smaller than Aster and it would be no big issue to sneak up behind him and kill him in some grisly way. Bunny was sure of it. North would be back by tomorrow, and he actually had convinced the Russian to help him bury the body when all was said and done. It was a matter of waiting for North to get back, and then that night Jack would be dead before he knew what hit him.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

Because as Aster's planning a multitude of grisly deaths for his husband, his cell phone (his  _actual_ cell phone, not the one he used around Jack) rang with urgency. North's name is highlighted on the caller display, meaning that Aster actually has to  _answer_ this one ugh.

"Y'allo." He says after picking up, still half paying attention to the footie game on the screen.

"Ah, Bunny!" North's voice crows through the other end. "Is Jack around?"

"Wha-  _why_?"

"Because I am finding something very strange about him."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Is very strange indeed my friend..."

Aster grumbles at that. "North just cut the crap already come on. Is he broke? Dying? What is it?"

"Have you ever heard of Jack Frost?"

"... oh fuck no.  _Fuck_  no."

Jack Frost wasn't so much of a legend within the crime circle, more like someone who really got his name out there without actually showing his face. Jack Frost, Aster knew, played the same game as he did.

Jack Frost was a force to be trifled with, he also knew, as apparently he could lay waste to an entire SWAT team with little to no trouble on his own.

North's laughing on the other end of the phone, the bastard, as Aster is forced to sit back down onto the couch in shock.

"Yer telling me that I am married to  _Jack bloody Frost_."

"Da." North snickers. "You truly know how to pick them, old friend."

Aster runs a hand through his hand in exasperated exhaustion.

"He's gotta go." Aster says resolutely. " _Now_."

"My thoughts exactly."

***

Aster goes back to the house at six forty five on the dot, as he as for the past few months. The hand gun pressing against his lower back is cold, but solid as he enters through the front door. Aster can hear Jack's humming coming from the kitchen, some mindless little tune that Aster's never heard before. The clattering of pots and pans ring from the kitchen as Jack cooks something or another is prominent as Aster heads further into the house, stopping to kiss Jack once before peering over the white haired boy's shoulder to gaze into the pasta sauce on the stove below.

"What's this then?" He asks in a joking tone.

"Spaghetti and meatballs," Jack says, stirring another pot, "Even with that gross vegetarian sauce you like."

Aster can't help but be happy at that, no matter how annoying Jack actually was the kid could cook a damn fine dinner. His handgun burns a hole from where it was tucked into his jean waistband.

"Sounds perfect love." Is what he says, trying to ignore the nerves skittering up and down his spine.

He leaves Jack then, claiming to go want to set the table so Jack wouldn't have to.

Once Aster leaves the room Jack looks to the open entryway to the dining room with a scrutinizing look, shrugging, and uncapping a very small vial of what he knows to be cyanide. Without any flourish in the slightest he tips the poison into the sauce, covering the movement with a roll of his shoulders.

Another glance behind him shows that Aster was still occupied with the setting of the dining room table, and thus had no clue. Jack's heart beats a mile a minute as he quickly trashes the vial with the leftover packaging that had been from the food he was currently working with.

A smirk crawls across his face as he stirs the sauce a few more times, the colour of the liquid a vicious crimson. He adds a dash of lemon to counter what he knows is a salty, bitter taste.

When Aster re-enters the kitchen he helps Jack to spoon pasta and sauce onto their plates, before they both head into the dining room, amicably chattering about their days. They're both lying through their teeth. As they sit Jack watches his husband with rapt attention, waiting for Aster to start eating.

Aster himself, not taking a bite, watches Jack back, warily reaching under the table to where he had duct taped the gun while he had been  _setting the table_. They both eye at each other, waiting for their own times to strike.

The table falls to silence as they stare, waiting for the other to make a move.

Jack's the one that breaks the silence.

"Aren't you hungry?" He asks, seemingly worried. Aster's not stupid enough to believe his tone. "I thought you loved my cooking. Is there something wrong?"

Aster can pick up on the slight hint of malice, not noticeable unless someone was listening for it. Something's up, best to act quickly.

"Nothin's wrong." Aster says quickly, ripping the gun from it's tape-y hold and pointing it right between Jack's eyes. "Nothin' at all."

Baby blue eyes go as wide as saucers, and Aster pulls the trigger before he can think against it.

The bullet shatters the picture frame that had been behind Jack, obviously digging through the drywall behind it. Jack had dived out of the way, then. Aster's at his feet immediately, almost knocking the table over in his haste.

He just barely catches the slip of blue darting back into the kitchen. Jack's a runner, then. He sprints for the doorway, but is forced to slam himself to the wall holding the doorframe as a knife goes whizzing past, deadly in it's accuracy as it embeds itself into the opposite wall.

Oh, so Frost wanted to  _play_ , was that it?

"Give it up  _Bunnymund_ ," Jack says from within the kitchen. "This isn't going to end well for either of us if we keep this up."

He's got a point, not that Aster will ever admit it. He chances a glance around the doorway again, only to be forced back by another knife. He gets a flash of silver hair and angry blue eyes from behind the upturned kitchen table before losing a small amount of hair to the projectile.

"You're gunna run out of knives eventually, Frost." Bunnymund counters, "And I'm the one with the gun. If it's going to end badly for one of us, it's you."

He hears Jack honest to god  _snarl_  at that, and it's enough to get Aster to rethink this course of action. A secondary doorway that led out to the front hall lay to the left, but to get there he'd have to brave crossing the kitchen-entrance and possibly another onslaught of knives flying towards his person. If he could get there, though, he'd be at a better point of advantage, and would be able to flush Frost out into the open.

With a great sigh, Aster decides to go with door number one.

A burst of speed gets him across the doorway, but as he bolts for the exit he feels something hard slam into the back of his head. Perhaps the butt of a knife? Aster doesn't stop to think as he skids through the exit, slamming his back into the wall of the entrance way. The back of his skull pounds like a bitch, and Aster looks behind him to see what exactly had been thrown.

"Did you actually just throw a  _spoon_  at me!?" He yells in agitation. The spoon itself lies on the floor of the dining room, having clattered to the floor after bouncing off of Aster's  _head ow_.

He can hear the laughter in Jack's voice as the kid replies with "You weren't worth the knife."

Bunnymund can feel his eye twitch. They both go quiet, panting and trying to find another plan of attack. Aster takes this time to creep down the hall towards the kitchen, slowly and silently. The doorway to the actual kitchen has a swinging door on it, so he can't actually see what Jack's doing, but hopefully it was crawling out the window and running.

Hopefully.

Once he hits the door proper, Aster steels his grip on his handgun and kicks in the door with a shout. His gun goes off without his actual consent, his hand tightening as he jumps and rolls into the kitchen. The bullet shatters the glass window that was above the sink, but Aster doesn't really care too much.

Because he's too busy looking for Jack, who had somehow disappeared.

He resumes his creeping around, large feet barely making a noise as he steps carefully towards the kitchen table, which was still upturned. With a quick movement he jumps behind it, gun at the ready, but is surprised when there's no sign of Jack. He backs up a bit, suddenly wary.

"Where are ya?" He murmurs to himself, green eyes flicking at a mile a minute.

"Here." Comes a mocking voice from  _directly behind him oh shit_ -

A knife presses into his throat and Aster can feel the weight of Jack's front suddenly press up against his back. Knowing how much shorter Jack is than Aster, Bunnymund knows they must look ridiculous. It's hard to think, though, as the knife taps lightly against his neck and Jack whispers in his ear.

"Hows about you drop the gun, hm?" Jack says, in no way questioning. Aster can't help but notice the sudden change in tone that Jack has, he's never  _once_ heard Jack talk in such a manner. How much had Jack changed for his role? Aster himself never really changed much, maybe was a bit nicer but that was it.

Jack had apparently turned into a whole other person.

Which kind of scares the shit out of him.

Aster drops the gun like it burned him.

"Good, thanks." Jack says, still methodically tapping the knife against Aster's jugular. "Now this  _is_  quite the predicament, isn't it? I'm assuming you're broke?"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I'm taking your silence as a yes. If I'm honest, so am I."

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

"So where do go from here?"

Aster response is less than eloquent, in that he responds with grabbing Jack's arm, the one holding the knife, and managing to heft the kid up and over his shoulder, slamming him onto the Italian marble tiles. Jack lets out a shout as he's suddenly air born, and another, more girly shriek as he slams to the floor.

Bunny works quickly, kicking Jack's lax hand and sending the knife skattering away, grabbing his fallen gun, and quickly pinning Jack by straddling him; Bunny holding his hands with one tanned hand and pressing the gun to a white haired temple with the other. Jack stares at Bunny with something akin to shock, but to Bunny's surprise he doesn't show fear.

When Aster clicks back the hammer, however, the fear does crawl onto Jack's face. Bunny refuses to acknowledge the small, creeping sense of guilt at having put it there.

"Is it too late to call a truce?" Jack says, blue eyes never leaving Aster's green ones. Bunny glares down at him, and the kid instantly shuts his mouth. That's all Jack is, though, a kid. Jack had said he was 23, but Aster hadn't believed him. Still doesn't actually.

With a sigh he brings the gun away from Jack's temple. Jack visibly relaxes once the metal is out of his face, but doesn't dare squirm in Aster's grip lest it come back.

"Yer lucky yer cute." Is all he says as he gets off Jack, not standing. Jack sits up and they stare at each other, sitting on the cold floor and panting heavily.

They stare at each other in apprehension, warily searching for any form of aggression. The kitchen is silent, save for the steady dripping of pasta sauce coming from the dining room. Jack twitches slightly with each noise, flinching just slightly every time Aster makes to move. They sit like that for a good ten minutes, suddenly being forced to size the other up as a possible opponent as opposed to a mark. It's a very disconcerting experience.

"So." Aster finally mutters sullenly. "Where do we go from here?"

Jack refuses to meet his eyes, picking at some loose grout in the tiles. "I don't know," is what he says. "I can safely say I've never been in a position such as this."

That startles a laugh out of Bunny. "Yeah, same here."

Their eyes meet in a clash of green and blue, and Bunny's surprised to see all pretenses of ditzyness completely gone from Jack's eyes, replaced with a cold, calculating mischief.

He can't help but admit it's pretty hot.

Jack finally lets a large sigh of air escape, visibly deflating into the tiles. He runs a hand along his face, then up through his hair, and then down his neck.

"I don't know about you," He says calmly. "But I am tired as hell. I'd like to think you're not going to shoot me in the face as I sleep, so I am going to  _bed_."

With than he stands, back creaking slightly. Aster sits on the floor and watches him go. However, once he hears Jack ascending the Maplewood stairs he gets a though.

"Oi!" He shouts, sprinting after Frost. "You ain't gettin' the bed to yerself."

Jack stops halfway up the stairs, looks at him appraisingly, and then holds up one finger. "I've got a solution." He says before disappearing back up the stairs.

Aster waits patiently from the bottom of the staircase for a few minutes, hearing a few shuffling noises from the second floor.

Which is why he's hardly surprised as the spare comforter from the linen closet and the pillows from his half of the bed come flying down the stairs with a soft  _whomph_.

" _You_  are sleeping on the couch." Jack's voice comes from the second floor.

"Why did I get pinned with the couch?!" Aster shouts back in anger.

"Because I'm cute." Is all Jack says in response.

Little shit.

With a grumble of acceptance Aster picks his way to the other end of the house, over to the living room where the hard, unforgiving, Ikea couch lays in wait. Bloody perfect. With a disheartened sigh he haphazardly tosses the pillows onto one end of the couch and the blanket onto the other, finally throwing himself down with a disgruntled flop.

The ceiling is white and plain, and Aster stares at it because he has literally nothing else to do. All of his books were up in the bedroom, as he liked to read before bed. Jack had said he had as well, but for all Aster knows that might have been a lie as well.

It's just as he's falling asleep that he realizes that he misses having Jack curled up next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this being as late as it is other than I lost my steam for this particular AU. But I've apparently gotten it back, so updates should be much more frequent. I'll also have it known that I've set up a tumblr for my writing, over at "littlemissloll" (noting the second L).


	5. Fires, Liars, and Demons for Hire

**CHAPTER FIVE: FIRES, LIARS, AND DEMONS FOR HIRE**

Aster wakes up to the smell of lighter fluid. His eyes snap open and for a second he’s confused as to why he’s staring at the living room’s ceiling, until memories from last night filter into his aching head. A rub to the back of his skull reveals a large goose egg where Jack’s well thrown spoon had nailed him last night.

Where’s Jack?

With a startled grunt Aster rolls off of the couch. He hits the floor with a _thump_ and a sharp cracking that was probably his back getting thrown out, but while on the floor he makes an interesting discovery.

A trail of liquid leads through the house, from what Aster can see. Green eyes follow the trail with suspicion as Aster props himself up, and it’s with caution that Bunny begins to follow it.

The entire house reeks of lighter fluid, so Aster already knows that that’s what the liquid on the floor must be. Aster makes his way through to the kitchen, where the upturned table and bullet holes were still prominent, and into the dining room where it had mingled with spilt spaghetti sauce.

It’s out in the front hall that Aster finds Jack.

The white haired boy stares in shock as Aster enters the hall, white hands clutching at the industrial can of lighter fluid he was currently pouring into a large puddle. The can, Aster knows, came from the back shed, where it had sat for over two months. Aster used it to start his barbeque in the summers and make the fireplace smoulder in the winters, and _oh that little shit_.

Jack has the gall to look at Aster like _he`s_ the one who’s interrupted something very important, continuing to pour lighter fluid onto oak flooring like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“Aster.” Jack says with a touch of a condescending tone.

“Jack.” Aster hisses back.

Neither of them move, neither of them dare to.

Green and blue eyes lock on each other from across the room, even as the can runs out and Jack drops it with little ceremony.

“I always hated this house,” Jack mutters, putting a thin hand on his hips. “Too... _standard_ for me.”

“I kinda liked it.” Aster responds, inching towards his husband. “But the _blue_... a little too much.”

“I love blue.” Jack’s tone leaves no room for jokes, even as the hand on his hip begins to slowly slide into his pocket. Aster takes no mind; he knows Jack has no room for any type of firearm in those tiny pockets of his.

“Well _obviously_.”

Aster’s only three meters away when Jack makes his move. The hand in his pocket clutches around the lighter he’d put there last night, and with more than a tiny hint of malice he whips it from his pocket, lights it, and lets it drop.

Aster jumps for the lighter, green eyes like saucers at the sight of the lighter, not having expected Jack to have a lighter _on him_ , let alone in his pocket. He’s too slow though, as Jack knows he would be, and Aster watches with horror as the lighter hits the lighter fluid almost in slow motion.

Flames burst to life, quickly following the trail through the house and back out to the front hall. Jack’s nowhere to be seen, having run the moment he let go of the lighter. Aster himself jumps away from the flames, the heat searing into his skin like a brand as he skids away. A line of fire stands between him and the door, so Aster takes another route. With more than a bit of panic Aster avoids the steadily growing flames and forces his way through the smoke filled front hall towards the kitchen, where he knows a second doorway to the backyard is. Hopefully Jack hadn’t blocked that one.

Aster never makes it there, though.

Because, like a bat out of hell, Jack appears through the smoke, sprinting at Aster from within the dining room as Aster passes it. Screeching like a banshee Jack jumps at him, nearly dragging Aster to the floor by wrapping his arms around Aster’s neck and holding on the way down from his jump. Aster’s barely able to keep his footing but is unable to catch Jack as well as the boy disappears back into the smoke. The fire has grown quite a bit since Aster last checked, and it gives him a bit of a panic to see just how much. Flames lick at the ceiling now, growing upwards consistently, and it’s rather worrying to see just how quickly the house is lighting up even with the lighter fluid to help it along.

Aster chases after Jack, stumbling blindly through the smoke. His nerves are sparked, constantly lighting and sending false information to his brain as paranoia sets in. With a grunt he sprints upstairs, intent on flushing Jack out as much as he can, or, better yet, murdering the little bastard and letting him _burn_.

There’s more smoke than fire on the second level of the house, which is both a blessing and a curse. Aster can’t see shit, but he’s less likely to accidentally set himself on _fire_ , so it’s a win-lose kind of deal. With silent steps Aster makes his way through the upstairs, listening intently over the crackling of flames. A small scuffling comes from the bathroom, and Aster knows he’s found his _beloved_ husband.

With a shout Aster jumps into the bathroom and grabs at Jack, who has a hilariously great deer-in-headlights expression as his hiding place is discovered. The boy doesn’t evade Aster this time, and is instead pulled from the bathroom and out into the hall with a shriek. The grey haired man doesn’t let go, even as Jack claws at his arm and curses. Instead, Bunny drags him across the hall and towards the stairs, intent on throwing his catch down them.

Jack, catching onto Bunny’s plan, squirms even more, shouting indignantly as Aster continues on his way. It’s because of this squirming that Jack manages to free himself at the last second, wiggling from Aster’s death grip and only just managing to avoid a rather nasty fall. The boy bolts before Bunny can grab him again, sprinting down the stairs with Aster hot on his heels.

The house is well and truly on fire at this point, and the muffled sirens in the distance can only be for them, but Aster’s too busy to care at this point, as Jack hits the kitchen and manages to grab hold of another knife. Aster manages to block his first swipe with a well timed smack to the boy’s arm, and grabs a knife of his own from the counter.

Their eyes lock for the second time that morning, both parties breathing heavily and deeply despite the smoke and flames. Jack doesn’t look scared in the slightest, only focusing on Aster and blocking the burning building surrounding them from his mind with practiced ease.

Bunnymund has more problems than Jack. Smoke clouds his lungs and his mind, choking him and filling his airways. The flames sear him, biting at his feet from the floor, lapping at his skin with the intent to burn.

It’s due to this distraction that he almost misses Jack lunging at him again. Jack’s knife catches him in the arm, drawing a fair amount of blood. Aster’s left forearm explodes into pain, even though it was really just a graze. The knife had only sliced his arm, not stabbed nor impaled him, but it still hurt like a bitch.

Jack’s grin is almost feral, widening at the sight of blood and reflecting the flames in perfect white. Bunny glares right back, more cautious than before as they circle one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. The house begins to crumble around them, floor boards from the second story falling with a loud crash in the front hall. The sound startles Jack slightly, and Aster takes his chance to stab at him, narrowly missing Jack’s bony torso and instead catching the blue hoodie Jack had been wearing.

The knife passes through the fabric without flesh or bone to stop it, and instead continues on it’s way as Aster keeps the momentum going, slamming his weight into Jack and lifting the smaller man off his feet. Jack isn’t ready for such unorthodox fighting and almost forgets to struggle in his shock, even as with a harsh _thunk_ the knife buries itself deep into the wall behind him.

Bunny backs off after that, hands at the ready, as Jack struggles with the knife that had to be at least six inches into the stud behind the drywall. The metal sticks fast, not budging, and for the first time Jack feels true, unearthly fear.

Aster continues to back away towards the open back door. Jack knows where this is going, because it was exactly where he was planning on being, just with the roles reversed.

“So that’s it, then?” He says, still trying to tug the knife from it’s new home, “You’re just going, going to _leave me_ _here_?”

“...Uh, seems like it, yeah.” Bunny shrugs, not stopping.

Jack watches silently past that as E. Aster Bunnymund turns his back at that point, and leaves.

The fire continues to consume the house, gutting it from the inside and steadily making it’s way towards the roof. Jack can hear the hissing pop of embers even past the slam of what’s left of the back door in the kitchen. If looks could kill, Aster would be long dead, even as Jack tugs again at the knife. Panic begins to override his thought process. Smoke chokes the air, and makes it impossible to see through anything.

Jack’s ready to cry at the amazing sound of ripping fabric, his shirt giving way under the blade and tearing open, sending Jack onto his hands and knees with gasping relief. His stupor is startled by a falling support beam, and the boy quickly rushes towards the backyard door, unwilling to go back towards the front of the house to avoid Aster.

Long past caring, Jack hurls himself outside, gasping for sweet air even as his eyes flick around in fear, scanning for Bunnymund. The grass is still wet with dew under Jack’s hands, and the sun is only just starting to creep up over the horizon. The sunrise is beautiful.

A harsh blow to his back jolts him, once again, to reality, and Jack is forced to roll in order to keep Aster’s weight from crushing him. The Aussie grunts when Jack manages to jump _over_ him, the smaller male rolling into a crouch, and then springing up and over the hunched, stunned Aster. Jack hits the ground running, using his hands to fall so that his feet can spring forwards.

Bunny can’t even say shit at this point. He’s fighting a fucking gymnast apparently.

But the shock only lasts a few seconds before he’s sprinting after Jack, the two of them in a mad dash for the garage.

Jack gets there first.

Aster only just manages to dodge as Jack runs the car _through_ the closed garage door, wood and splinters of the blue door going flying in every which way. Aster feels one scrape along his face, gouging a little deep.

Jack reverses haphazardly across the front lawn, running over the impeccable gardens and speeding past the burning wreckage of the house. Bunny can’t help but glare at him, and shouts over the roar of the fire.

“OI! I worked hard on that garden!” And he did, he really did.

The car’s window rolls down, revealing Jack’s nonplussed face.

“Like I give a shit,” The kid calls back, already putting the car in drive. “Besides that, it’s been a pleasure. See you _never_!”

A cocky salute is all Jack shows in terms of body language before rolling up the window and sending the car skidding away, the screech of tires on asphalt the soundtrack as he leaves Aster staring dumbfounded outside the burning wreck of their house. Deep gouges are left in the lawn from the car, the only one they had. Aster is still in shock as the structure finally gives out in the house, the entire thing collapsing into smoke and ash. The noise startles him into moving, running away from the house as quickly as his feet will take him.

Once three blocks away, the house nothing but a plume of smoke in the background, he pulls his phone from his pocket and stabs at it, angrily typing in numbers before impatiently waiting for an answer. When he gets it he’s beyond sentence structure.

“North. Problem. Pick up, _now_.”

***

 

 

 

 

**[FIVE MONTHS LATER.]**

 

 

 

 

Nicolas St. North prided himself on his work, his men, and above all, his security. As one of the best mob bosses to ever rock the streets of every major city on the planet, the man was the very definition of power.

So when he walks into his office only to find a woman perched on his desk drinking his most expensive brandy, the one that had been in his _safe_ , he’s more than a little confused.

“St. North.” She says casually, crossing her legs with a swish of rainbow fabric. Her face is exotic, rounded but definitely of India. She’s at least a first generation American, if she herself didn’t move as an adult. Her smile, though, is what strikes North. Clean, impeccably white, but oh so very _dangerous_. It takes her soft face and turns it into something blood thirsty.

“You’re a difficult man to find.” She continues, taking a sip from his brandy. If this is her first glass she’s already cost him over five hundred dollars.

“And why vould you want to find me?” He asks just as casually, cursing himself for not bringing his gun, for thinking himself safe in his stronghold. Violet eyes snap to him, her grin widening.

“A mutual friend sent me.” She says, “Dear old Sandy has a job for us both, plus two.”

“Plus two?”

“We need grifters.” She mutters, expression darkening. “It’s quite the plan Sanderson has set up, I will admit. You as muscle, me as tech. But we need two inside men, or women, whatever.”

“I see.”

Well isn’t this just peachy? Goddamn it Sandy.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” North finally tries. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

She smirks.

“Ah, yes, how rude of me. I have _many_ names, but I am known as Toothiana.” North’s never heard of that name.

“Though most know me as the Tooth Fairy.”

Ah. That name, that name he knows.

“Vell, zat explains how you got in here. And into my safe.”

“Like it’s supposed to be hard?” She takes another sip of her drink as if to prove the point.

“Anyways,” She snaps back to attention. “We need two grifters. I already have the perfect man lined up for one, but I thought I might have a show of good will and let you pick the second. Sound fair?”

“Very.” North nods. “But how does Sandy know that I vill be going with zis plan?”

“He said that when you heard the take size, you’d be in.”

“Oh did he?”

“He did indeed.  How does a six million dollar share sound?”

… Ah.

“I’m in.”

“I knew you would be.”

Aster owed him a favour anyways.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hiatus... IS OVER. REJOYCE!


	6. Meeting, Greeting, and a Heartbeat Fleeting

Aw hell no.

“Aw _hell_ no.”

“But Aster, think of the-”

“I said, _hell_. _No._ ”

“But the _money_!”

“I don’t trust any bird who just breaks into your office, drinks your expensive booze, and claims to know Sandy. I don’t trust her, or her supposed six million, and neither should you, North.”

“But the _money_!”

“As you’ve said.”

“Please, old friend?”

“Aw, now don’t be pullin’ that shit with me.”

“ _Please_?”

…

“Fuck.”

“Ahah! We’ll be rich! You won’t regret this!”

“Somehow I already am.”

***

Oh hell no.

“I’m not doing it.”

“But Jack, I already said-”

“Tooth, I’m on _vacation_!”

“Yeah, but… _six million_.”

“Yeah, but, _vacation_.”

“I already said you’d do it, and you’re the only one I trust, Jack, _please_.”

…

Goddamn it.

“Goddamn it.”

“YES! Oh thank you sweetie you won’t regret this, we’re going to be rich!”

***

Their first meeting was going to be somewhere simple, somewhere public. Somewhere each party would be on even ground. Sandy had picked a simple café in the city’s center, one that had been recommended by another friend of his, but he had yet to have visited.

Aster and Nick arrived first, the lumbering Russian towering over everyone in the quaint, though crowded, café. North bought a multitude of cookies of every shape and size and was happily munching away, while Aster just got black coffee, never one for trusting others to make his food.

Sanderson Mansnoozie was a stout, portly little fellow. Though he only came up to Aster’s elbow, it was easy to find the man in a crowd due to his crop of wild golden hair, and his tanned skin seemed to glow under the lights of the city. His kind eyes were almost golden brown, and always shone with joy.

He also was mute.

However, Aster and North both had grown to learn sign language through their friendship, and Toothiana and her contact supposedly knew the same.

Now it was a matter of waiting, as Sanderson wouldn’t tell anything until the crew were all assembled.

The café was a quaint place on a heavily populated street corner, much like a Starbucks but much more hipster, with a lot more plaid and flowers. Food was better too, admittedly. It was a tiny, hole-in-the-wall kind of place, packed with tables and a glass counter shoved in the very back.

It also smelled _really nice_.

The small ting of the bell attached to the door alerted the three men to the arrival of their missing co-conspirators. The woman was obviously the Tooth Fairy, she matched North’s descriptions perfectly. She was dressed in a plethora of colours on the shirt, and simple black jeans. Her hair also had streaks of the rainbow all over. Somehow she looked good in it, though Aster himself didn’t really agree with her colour vomit choice. But he was originally going to show up in a two day old tee and jeans combo before North had made him change, so he can’t really say shit.

But it’s the second person that snaps Aster’s attention back to the door.

Oh holy _fuck_.

“Aster-” North hisses as he too sees the second visitor.

“I see ‘im,” Aster gruffs.

The blue eyes belonging to one Jack Frost widens comically when he sees Aster, and Tooth is only just able to catch his arm as the boy makes to dramatically turn around and exit right out the door he had just walked through.

The woman drags Jack through the café and to their table, Jack not even bothering to put up a fight at this point. Bunny’s eyes don’t leave his… ex? God, he doesn’t even know. The awkward is through the roof, ladies and gentlemen.

Tooth gracefully sits in the seat to the right Sandy, Jack silently placing himself on the golden man’s left. North is to left of Jack, and Bunny to the left of North. Bunny hardly looks at Tooth, who is to his own left.

Somehow in their attempts to avoid each other, Jack and Aster end up sitting exactly across from each other. Their eyes meet across the circular table, and neither is willing to be the first to break eye contact.

“Jack.” Aster finally says, not angrily, but without any sense of kindness. “Didn’t know you were still… in town.”

“Aster,” Jack smiles back. “And here I was thinking you were still crying over your flowers. Silly me.”

Sandy huffs in his silent way, tugging at North’s sleeve to get his attention. North takes the hint, and attempts to diffuse the situation.

“Vell, my friends!” The large man booms, “Let’s not forget why we are here, da? Sandy, let’s hear it!”

Sandy’s face is unamused at the pun, but begins to sign anyways.

_“Obviously Tooth has filled you all in on the most important part of this._ ” Sandy signs quickly, the others all nodding along with dollar signs in their eyes.

“ _Now. Here is what I am thinking. One of my men has picked up some rather delicate information. Pitch Black is coming to town_.”

Despite there being silence before, the room only seems to go quieter as the other four sit and stare at the golden man in shock.

“P-Pitch Black.” North stutters. “As in, _the_ Pitch Black?”

A nod from Sandy.

“You mean crime kingpin of the entire underworld?”

This time Jack pipes up.

“And you want us to… con him. Am I going in the right direction?”

Nod nod nod.

Jack’s face goes somewhat green, the boy slouching in his seat while waving at Sandy to continue.

“ _As Jack asked, yes, we’re going to con him. But we’re going to do it right. Pitch won’t be expecting us. He thinks he’s too powerful, the man thinks he’s a god._ ”

“Icarus.” Aster mumbles to himself.

“ _Exactly.”_

“So vhat is plan?”

“ _It’s a very complicated thing, I will admit. That’s why it will take at least us five, plus the assets that Nick and Tooth both own._

_“Here’s the basic gist of it. We’re going to rob Pitch’s master vault. It lies under thirteen feet of solid concrete under his mansion, and is guarded by almost fifty heavily armed personnel. This thing is supposedly impenetrable without a code, which changes on the hour. The new code is text to Pitch’s cell phone every hour._ ”

“So we need that phone.” Jack mumbles, “Shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“ _No, the difficulty will come from the distraction. We’re going to run not one, but **two**_ _distractions at once. Three, if you count our inside man._

_“We’re going to run a rigged fight and a weapons deal at the same time.”_

“Oh is that all.” Aster gruffs.

“ _Shush_. _Both these will serve as distractions so we can get the phone and the vault. We’ll be split into two teams, those after the vault and those running the distraction._ _Toothiana and I will take the vault, once the distraction team, meaning you three gentlemen, gets us the code of the hour.”_

Jack pipes up again. “Alright. So Aster… Nick, you said your name was? And I are on distraction. But who’s running what?”

“ _Aster will be one of our quote-unquote fighters. That entire thing will be rigged. North will be running a perfectly legitimate deal with Pitch_.”

“I have heard he needed some gun power…” North murmurs. “I could pose as if I had just shown up on my own. We have done business in the past.”

Sandy looks overjoyed at that, clapping his hands once in excitement.

“And what about me?” Jack mutters, side eyeing Sandy with those baby blues Aster had gotten so used to seeing every morning.

“ _…That’s where Aster and you both sort of come in. Pitch has a… likeness for dainty things._ ”

“You want me to seduce him.” It’s not a question.

“ _And get his phone, yes. Just get him to trust you. The thing is, he also, for some weird reason, likes to get together with married men._ ”

…

Oh Christ.

“That’s… gross.” Jack sneers. “So lemme guess, Aster and I are unhappily married, I try to get with Pitch until the big night, then I snatch his phone and get you and Tooth the code?”

“ _Exactly_.”

Jack purses his lips in thought. Lean, thin fingers tap on the polished wood of their table, and blue eyes snap up to Aster’s.

“Well then.” Jack finally shrugs, “I suppose our divorce is being put on hold then, huh Aster?”

“Suppose so, Jackie.” Aster mutters back without thinking.

The five of them go silent for a few seconds, all of them trying to digest what it was, exactly, that they were getting into.

Jack’s the first to get up from the table.

“Well. Looks like we’ve got some shit to do. Let’s get started.”

***

If one were to have to put Sanderson Mansnoozie in any sort of category it would be the _guy who knows a guy…_ guy. Except for the fact that Sanderson Mansnoozie knew enough _guys_ to populate a small country. By the end of the week everyone and their mother knew that within two months there would be a _fight for the ages_ between two unknown men.

The beginning of the trap was set.

Tooth had spent that week gathering intel about the mansion, managing to piggyback on the security system after a gruelling six hours of work. She could see into each and every hallway, bedroom, and bloody closet of their marks home.

Pitch hadn’d even hit ground by the time they were ready.

North had stayed mostly quiet, he being the only one who was actually using his real name and face through the entire thing. Sandy had been gathering weapons, supplies, and the like for he and Tooth.

And Jack and Aster… had been avoiding each other without fail.

Oh, they had had words over the phone and such, but they hadn’t seen the other’s face since that day in the shop, and they quite liked it that way. Hell, Jack himself had holed himself up in an apartment on the opposite side of town, in the middle of suburbia, so god knows that going to find him was more of a novel length adventure than a trip.

Aster himself had mostly been helping North, keeping busy as to avoid having to deal with _Jack_.

And thus the weeks passed.

Then, like a bat out of hell, the time came.

And they were ready


	7. Everything goes to SHIT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is gunna be good.

**CHAPTER SEVEN: EVERYTHING GOES TO SHIT**

The Rosencrantz Hotel was something out of a fancy magazine, Jack would admit. The entire place had a sense of _shine_ to it, right down to the gold accents embedded in the trim of the ceiling. Polished marble and plush carpets ran through the building, directing people through to their lavish, over priced rooms.

It was the place someone like Jack could hunt without any problem, though tonight he was after a very specific type of prey.

Which is exactly why he is standing in front of the mirror in his and Aster's shared bathroom, where he has been for the past thirty minutes.

" _Goddamn it,_ Jack!" Aster gruffs from the other side of the door. "We've got to meet Sandy downstairs in five minutes fer christ's sake!"

Jack watches as his reflection's eyes roll in irritation, and then proceeds to go back to toying with his hair.

"Give me a _fucking minute!_ " Jack barks back, calm hands a perfect opposite to harsh tone.

Aster goes silent for a second, which makes Jack quite happy, but then decides to pick right back up.

"You never took this long when we were together." Aster hisses.

Ha. "When they were together." That's what he's calling it, huh?

"Because you didn't want someone who did this." Jack snaps, "Fucking moron."

_That_ shuts Aster up. It always seems to, when Jack shows claws. He's so used to Jack presenting himself as weak, demure thing that the moment Jack pulls out the big guns Aster's blown right off his feet. It'd be hilarious if it wasn't so goddamn annoying.

A good ten minutes later, just to piss Aster off, Jack saunters out of the bathroom and right past Bunnymund's angry face. Jack smirks and flicks Bunny's nose as he walks past, breaking the larger male's angry face in two.

"Let's go geddem." Jack simply says, halfway out the door to their hotel room.

***

Pitch was at the bar, and had been for the past half hour. This was the first step in Sandy's master plan, to set Jack in place before the fight itself. Thus, when Jack and Aster enter the bar on the main floor of the hotel, they know that they won't be leaving together.

They know exactly where Pitch is sitting, on a plush, round, booth with a few other rich fuddies that Jack is sure would be no good in a fight. Corrupt politicians, then. All of them so deep in Pitch's pocket they've built themselves homes out of the lint.

Ah, well.

Aster and Jack take their places at the bar, and even now Jack can feel golden eyes on him. There's the hook, then. He'd kept his white hair, apparently Pitch had a _thing_ for exotic looks. Aster remains as frigid as ever, though this time it was more of an act than anything. The unhappy couple, that's what they were. Jack acts like he wants to talk to Aster, even as he continues to gruffly shove him aside.

"So, are you ready for the fight?" Jack asks, pretending to care.

"Course."

"That's good, right? I'm sure you'll win."

"Course."

From the corner of his gaze, Jack sees golden eyes narrow, studying him. Aster gives the signal, a simple double tap against his glass with his fingers, that he sees it too. They wait another ten minutes, idly keeping up the act, before Jack has an idea.

"Hit me."

" _What?"_

"Hit me. Straight up, just _slap me_."

"Why in the hell would I do that?"

"It's perfect. Hit me and storm off, Pitch will jump on it. There's no one easier than an abused spouse."

"Oh, and you would know?" Aster sounds doubtful.

"Yeah, because I tend to know a lot more than you." Make him angry, there's a plan.

" _As if_. You ruddy Americans, always thinking you're so much smarter."

" _Well_ kangaroo, if you weren't such a dumbass I wouldn't have to say it."

Aster bristles, but it's not enough.

"You know, it makes me wonder if you're even good enough to keep this going. If you get us caught I'm going to kill you myself, besides, if you fuck as good as you con then we're all scre-"

SLAP

Jack's head snaps to the side as Aster's open hand makes contact, mouth still open and eyes wide.

The sudden silence of the bar is broken as patrons go back to their meals, hurriedly trying to ignore what had just happened. Jack slowly brings his head back to look at Aster, who stares back in shock.

A smirk ghosts across his face, and Jack snarkily rubs at his reddening cheek.

"Now, was that so hard?"

Aster just shakes his head and leaves, storming off and out of the bar.

From across the room golden eyes glow with possibility.

***

Jack lets out a giggle at yet another of Pitch's flirting attempts. For the past hour they'd been chatting, and admittedly, Jack was rather charmed. He could see how Pitch had become such a womanizer, even as the man tossed another suave compliment at him.

"So, why are you with that brute of a man, anyways? Pretty thing like you must have had a million men throwing themselves at your feet." Pitch says, taking a tactful sip of his bandy. Jack's own fruity drink stands beside it, Jack notably not taking a sip since the conversation had started. He'd had enough experience with drugged drinks to know better.

The question throws Jack for a loop, and he's forced to scramble.

"We were highschool sweethearts." Jack murmurs, grasping at straws. "He was so sweet. Then there was this awful fighting business, he got obsessed. He makes so much money, he's never lost a fight. But it makes him so… _angry._ "

The final word is a drawn out sigh, and Pitch makes the appropriate face in the face of such a "tragedy".

"Such a pity," Pitch says it with such honesty that Jack doesn't protest as a long fingered had is raised to cup his cheek. "A pity indeed."

Jack smiles and brings a hand up to grasp Pitch's.

_Too easy_.

***

Jack invites Pitch to the fight, as if he doesn't know Pitch will already be there. Pitch acts all high and mighty as he invites Jack to watch "his brutish husband" brawl from the box lounge. Jack discusses this with the others before going, and all four of them were ready. Sanderson and Toothiana were three states away in Pitch's official place of residence. Namely, they were only a kilometer and a half away from the safe they were targeting.

North was ready to go, having already approached Pitch with his offer. They had planned to meet in a week and some change.

Bunny was all ready to fight, his opponent a man named Phil. Phil was North's main man.

They'd already planned for Phil to go down in the fifth, making Aster the winner and stacking the odds. People from all around the world had filtered to the abandoned warehouse that the five of them had set up with bleachers, the ring, a betting station, and, most importantly, a box lounge that Pitch had reserved the moment it had become available.

Which means it all comes down to Jack.

The "box lounge" was a fancy, smoozy kind of room that was thick with cigar smoke (from Pitch). Plush, comfortable chairs sat facing the arena for the fight, which could be seen from the balcony. Pitch had invited Jack to join him, and Jack had just giggled and said he'd love to.

Pitch was falling like a tree, and it was beautiful.

The man himself was relaxing, puffing away at some cigar a Cuban man probably died for. Jack had dropped a few hints at Aster being a sure win, and Pitch had _finally_ caught on. The box was sitting by his side, the two of them slowly sinking into the couch that had the best view of where the fight would take place in half an hour.

"So why are you so sure of your husband's win? His opponent is twice his size." Pitch says it casually, but Jack can see the deceit a mile away.

Jack blinks, as if shocked, subtly fluttering his eyelashes just for that extra _oomp_.

"Oh, you caught that? I… uh, well. Don't tell Aster if you ever see him… but I, uh, I followed him to a meeting he had about a week ago." Jack stutters it out, despite having gone over the lie a million times with North and Aster both.

"Oh, did you? Naughty." Pitch is such a sleeze, good Christ.

"Yeah," Jack huffs, "I did. And he met up with another man, a huge guy. Like a mountain! He had this huge white beard, blue eyes. His coat was red with white trim. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was Santa…" Jack lets it trail, lets it sink in, and nearly snickers when Pitch's eyes flash with recognition. It's not like North was very similar to anyone else in the city.

"Anyways, he and Aster talked. They've rigged the fight. The other man is supposed to go down in the fifth. They've both placed huge bets on Aster."

"…rigged it?" Pitch mutters, looking puzzled.

"Yep." Jack pops his _p_ for emphasis. With a sigh he sinks closer to Pitch, casually sliding closer to bury himself under Pitch's arm. Pitch apparently has no complaints as he tightens his newfound grip on Jack.

Both of them take notice as the lights begin to dim, and even more so as spotlights light up the ring. Aster and Phil are on stage, parading around even as Jack half-heartedly waves down. When the fight actually begins below, Jack uses the distraction to sink closer to Pitch. With the lights off it would be much easier to snatch the phone and run.

" _Jack_ ," Tooth's voice buzzes in Jack's ear. A small speaker, barely the size of a hearing aid, was nestled deep within Jack's ear, it's twins belonging to the others. Tooth had built them, a better version of what they had used to rob the Catalina Wine Mixer, when Jack had met Aster and everything had started going to shit.

Jack, to his credit, doesn't even flinch when Tooth begins to whine that they were in place and _can't he just hurry up, they're waiting for that code_.

Showtime, then.

With a quick movement, Jack flips in Pitch's grip. Their eyes lock, and Jack grabs at Pitch's face with a fake determination.

"Don't freak out." Is all he says.

And he slams their lips together into a kiss that has Pitch at a loss. So much so, in fact, that Jack is able to squirm onto the man's lap without any protest whatsoever. Internally, Jack shudders at the thought of _kissing_ this nasty bastard, but hey, he's honestly done worst.

So when hands start groping Jack uses it to his advantage in order not to puke like a punkass bitch. As Pitch's hand grabs at his back and starts going _decidedly south_ , Jack takes the time to slip a hand into Pitch's jacket and try to feel for the rounded frame of a cheap, disposable, prepaid piece-of-shit phone.

Top left pocket, inner lining. The golden ticket, wrapped in silk.

With quick fingers, the phone is now in Jack's pocket. Like magic. Poof.

An internal clock begins to tick. Jack lets the make out go on for about twenty more minutes as Aster gets the shit beat out of him below. Eventually Pitch backs off for air, and Jack sees his chance to get the fuck out of dodge.

"I need to… uh." Jack throws in the stutter for effect as Pitch mauls his neck and under his jaw. "Uh."

Pitch simply lets up, looks Jack in the eye, and chuckles. "Go on, then."

Jack simple shoots him a grateful smile and slips out of the room, already pulling out his phone to call Tooth. He practically sprints his way down the hall and takes a sharp turn into a storage closet. The door closes with a _click_ behind him, pale hands drawing it closed as lightly as possible.

And with that, he texts Tooth. It was too dangerous to call.

"How're ya doin, frostbite?" Aster's voice filters through his ears, making Jack freeze mid type.

"…fine. Aren't you supposed to be beating the shit out of Phil?"

"Yeah, fight ended early. Guy fainted with a couple punches."

…oh.

OH SHIT.

"Then. Where. Is. Pitch."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." The response comes from right _behindhimoh-_

Jack can barely scream before large hands wrap around him and yank him backwards, one hand around his mouth and the other bringing an iron bar across his waist.

He's jerked backwards into a muscled chest and out of the closet, and whoever it was turns him quickly to bring him face to face with Pitch. Blue eyes widen as Pitch grins with a mouth full of teeth.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Jack can feel pure, unadulterated _terror_ course through him.

"Now, Jack. Hasn't anyone ever told you that playing with a man's heart can be a dangerous pastime?" Pitch says patronizingly, patting Jack's head. Jack jerks in the hold the goon has on him, though that's the equivalent of trying to beat down a brick wall with his fist.

Jack can hear Aster's horrified shouting on the other side of their comm link, and it's only now he begins to tune back into it.

"Jack!? Jackie? Goddamn it what's happening? Jack, Christ, please respond!"

Pitch can see his eyes shift, Jack knows he can. That theory is only confirmed as Pitch cups Jack's cheek, in a mockery of how they had first spoken, only to reach gently into his ear and pull out the speaker.

Jack's hyperventilating, oh my god he's going to die!

"Now, Jack, darling. We need to have a little _chat_. But not here, I'm afraid. Too many… _rats_ , eh, Frost?"

Blue eyes go even wider. Pitch had known. He'd known the whole goddamn time! Good god this was going to end with his body dead in a ditch and the others as well and oh my god-

His thoughts are cut as the man holding him lifts Jack bodily off the ground and begins to carry him off, even as he brings his arms up to scramble, to break free, _anything_. The man lets his face go, and Jack begins to _scream_.

"Let me GO, LET ME GO, YOU FUCKER PUT ME _DOWN_!"

But before he can continue, a strip of bitter smelling cloth is forced in front of his face, and everything goes fuzzy.

The last thing he sees is a pair of golden yellow eyes, glaring out from a blurred grey background.

Pitch grins as Jack goes limp. His current goon was such a smart one, one who had been hiding the whole time unknown to Saint North, or Bunnymund, not even Jack had known. Let alone the two currently being taken down in his estate. He waves to the man, who begins to carry Jack's limp body down the hall and out the door.

He'd be putting the boy in the trunk of the car, Jack wouldn't protest since he wouldn't be waking up for the next twenty four-ish hours. Ah, well. Pitch would be patient.

But first.

With a smooth motion Pitch holds Jack's comm to his ear, listening to Bunnymund flip his proverbial shit. Hilarious.

"Hello, Aster Bunnymund." Pitch drawls.

"PITCH! Ya rat bastard, where's Jack?!"

"That's none of your concern. Jackson had another appointment, can I take a message?"

"I swear to god when I get over there I'm gonna-"

"Do absolutely nothing. Because unfortunately for you, you have your own problems to deal with."

Muffled gunfire comes from the other side of the comm, along with Aster cursing up a storm.

Pitch chuckles as he lets the comm drop, casually stepping on it as he heads down the hallway and towards the car.

He had a country to flee, after all.

**A/N School is over, LET THE GAMES BEGIN!**

**Author's Note:**

> Have I ever told you guys I ship Jackrabbit? CAUSE UH YEAH.


End file.
